Beautiful Betrayer
by FantasyEmpress
Summary: Will is dead, and Jack and Elizabeth must avenge him, while trying their hardest not to fall in love along the way. Discontinued unless I suddenly become inspired.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, situations, or plots. (Except what I made up, I guess, maybe. Bla-bla-bla.) **

Prologue

On a sandy beach, a woman sat staring out to sea, enjoying the sunset behind the silhouette of a beautiful, proud ship. Behind her stood a charming house, and in the yard two children- obviously twins about three years of age- played, watched over by a handsome teenager. The two younger boys batted at each other with wooden swords, tossing insults and nautical phrases back and forth. The woman smiled as she listened to them.

She looked no older than twenty, yet her eyes showed years of experiences both sorrowful and joyful. She seemed content, yet a shadow passed over her face as her oldest son, now seventeen, approached her. He looked so much like his father. He sat down wordlessly beside her, smiling at the approaching ship with bright eyes. He didn't notice his mother's thoughtful expression, lost in his excitement as his stepfather's ship approached.

Despite her pleasure at knowing her husband would soon be home, the woman was saddened the similarity this day bore to the day five years ago when she had discovered herself a widow.

Elizabeth sighed at the memory. She smiled as a rowboat cast off from _The Beautiful Betrayer, _amused at the knowledge of who the ship was named for. Yet the sad memories returned when Willy looked at her questioningly with those light, puppy sad eyes. So much like Will…


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Some characters may be a little out of character, but quite a while has passed and time changes people. (Or at least that's my excuse.)**

1

**Five years previously:**

"Mother, mother, there's a ship coming!"

The boy, twelve of years and as gangly as a newborn colt, tripped into the house and barely avoided knocking over the cupboard. His mother smiled, remembering how awkward and unbecoming his father had once been. Yet he had grown to one of the most handsome men she had ever met. She hoped the same for her son.

"Slow down, son, before you hurt yourself. Did you see what colors the ship's flying? Did you recognize it?"

"Yes Mother. It's_ The Beautiful Betrayer_, Mother! It's Uncle Jack.! Uncle Jack is coming! Come on, Mother, let's go meet him!"

Laughing, Elizabeth Turner let her son grab her hand and pull her down towards the beach. She enjoyed his childishness, all too aware that soon he would begin to mature, and since she had not conceived during her last day with her husband two years ago, she was also aware that there was no chance for more children until another eight years from the present. At least Willy would not age physically past about twenty during her lifetime. And she had "Uncle Jack" to thank for that.

The man stepping out of the longboat on the beach was strange, but incredibly attractive. Even from a distance, his dark coat, long dreadlocked hair, and low-over-the-eyes tricorn hat gave the impression of handsome eccentricity and roguishness. His usually smirking mouth and usually mischievous chocolate eyes, however, were uncharacteristically solemn. Elizabeth immediately began to feel uneasy. Captain Jack Sparrow rarely looked solemn, even when he felt so. A Willy ran down to hug his "uncle", Elizabeth watched a rather falsified smile appear on Jack's face. Yet when he looked towards her over Willy's head, his face went from solemn to downright sad. Something was terribly wrong.

When Willy finally disengaged from his rarely seen hero, Elizabeth smiled at her son.

"Willy, would you mind running up to the house and tending to the fire? Don't hurry back, Uncle Jack and I need to catch up a little bit."

The boy looked disappointed, but did not argue. He was such a well behaved lad. Elizabeth was incredibly proud of him. As her son headed up the hill, Elizabeth turned to address her friend, but found herself engulfed in his embrace instead. She was shocked.

Soon after Elizabeth married William Turner, Jack had backed off and completely stopped his playful flirtations with Elizabeth. In all her twelve years of marriage, which were peppered with frequent visits from him; even on their trip to the Fountain of Youth, they had never touched in any way other than a friendly handclasp at greeting and parting or when he was helping her in and out of longboats. And then of course when he had been forced to deliver Willy…but that could hardly be considered an arousing situation for either of them. Their lack of touches came from a deep-rooted fear of their intense attraction to one another. Mere days after Will left the first time, when Jack had come to ensure she was comfortable in her new home, they had somehow found themselves locked in a passionate kiss that could have gone much further had they not suddenly been snapped back to reality by the flash of green at the end of the sunset, reminding them that they were not free to touch or hold or love. They had then agreed to be very careful with this flame they held, neither desiring to betray Will and possibly end up with another Davy Jones on their hands. So why now had he embraced her?

There was nothing erotic about the embrace. It was more as if it were intended to comfort. But what was it she needed to be comforted about? Deep fear gripped her. Something was so terribly, terribly wrong.

"Lizzie, I've got bad news. Do you want me to break it in slowly or just tell you quick like and get it over with?"

"Tell me quickly, Jack. What could be so very wrong?"

"Lizzie…William's dead."

In some way, she thought she had known that, even though it hardly seemed likely. Two years ago, when Will had come back and discovered he had a son, he had confided in her that he had enemies, though he refused to say who they were. He had insisted upon taking the chest with his heart in it, determined that he would not put her and his child in danger. She was suddenly very glad for Jack's arms around her, leaning against him weakly. Finally, she managed to speak.

"Who did it, Jack? Who killed Will?"

He just hugged her tightly.

"Wait 'til the boy goes to bed. It's a long story, and I think we should try to pretend everything's alright until you decide how you want to tell him."

Still too stunned to really understand what was happening, she just nodded.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

When Willy went to bed, Jack sat down next to Elizabeth on the settee and wrapped his arms around her gently. It was funny…for more than twelve years, even the slightest touch from him could set her ablaze far more than Will could, yet now in one day he had touched her more than ever, and she felt nothing but an aching emptiness. She loved Will…though there had been times when she wondered if she could have loved Jack if she allowed herself. Not that any of that mattered now…now that Will was dead.

"What happened, Jack? Please tell me."

"It's a long story, luv, and it starts a long time ago, when my father and Bootstrap Bill were best mates. They were young and wild. Bootstrap got married when he was twenty-two, but kept right on being a sailing 'merchant'. One night in Tortuga, he and my pop met a woman. Not a harlot…just a woman who ran an inn in one of the quieter parts of town. Pop fell head-o'er-heels in love with her. But 'twas Bill who got her attention, and within a few nights he was in her bed.

A couple months later, Bill decided to head back to his wife; had a right change of heart, he did. Said it was wrong, what him and the woman 'ad been up too. So he left Tortuga, headed back to England.

My pop stayed on, and soon enough it turned out that the woman was gonna have Bootstrap's kid. Pop married the woman. She had a son, by Bill, and sent him off to a school, in England. Pop paid for the schoolin'. Couple 'o years later, I came along. And quite a few years after that, Bootstrap's wife, who had been only thirteen when he married her, gave birth to Will."

"So you mean that you and Will have the same half-brother? His father and your mother had a child together?"

"That's it. Corgan was 'is name. I didn't know about him 'til I was a teenager…Will didn't know about him until about three years ago. Now, Mum's sister told Corgan all about how Bootstrap got Mum pregnant with him, then ran off on her. Corgan got to hatin' Bootstrap somethin' awful. And when he eventually found out about Will, he decided to hate him too, who knows why.

He didn't hate me or Pop. Seemed to think we were good for Mum; that wasn't always true. Pop and I treated Mum more like a servant half the time thanas a person. Anyway, Corgan is the one who killed Will. And Bootstrap too. I still haven't filled in the holes; like how Corgan figured out about Will and the_ Dutchman_. But Corgan's doing the same as Jones; left his duty and is sailin' around doing who-knows-what. I'm afraid for you and Willy too. Corgan's insane."

"But Jack...How could he? He killed his own father and half-brother just because of something Bootstrap did years and years ago?"

"I imagine the immortality concept was appealing to him too, Lizzie. He's not really a young man. He doesn't want to die."

"But…but how did he know about the _Dutchman_? How could he know? And you said that Will knew about him since three years ago. How did Will know about him? How could this happen?"

"Hush, Lizzie. All in good time. Corgan will have to be killed. He's madder than even Jones. Bootstrap's sin against my mum was only his excuse for his madness. He's always loved cruelty. I first met him when I was twenty. He had a cage full of rats in his study. Every so often he'd pull one out and kill it in as awful a way as you ever saw. He can't be left to roam, especially with the power of the _Dutchman _in his hands."

The immensity of it all suddenly overcame her, and she sobbed, leaning into Jack's embrace, letting him comfort her.


	3. Chapter 2

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her son.

"Willy, do you remember your father? You met him two years ago, remember?"

"Yes, Mama. He was nice. I like Uncle Jack better though."

It stung Elizabeth's heart, hearing him say that. She wondered if she had failed Will by letting Jack become more of a father to Willy than Will was able to be. And a pang of guilt rushed through her as well, for she knew that she felt the same. She had loved Will, still did even now. But she had always felt somehow more connected to Jack. Will was her lover, her husband. But Jack was her _friend, _and Willy's father in everything but blood.

"Willy, I'm afraid your father is…is dead."

The boy looked up at her. He looked sad, but not to any great depth. Almost as one when look if a friend's relative died. The sadness would be more for the friend's sorrow than for the absence of the deceased. Willy was feeling sorry for _her,_ not for his father.

"Are you alright, Mother?"

She sighed. Her son did not love his father, and it broke her heart. What would Will think if he knew that his son did not even mourn his passing, but rather gave all his love to Jack?

"I'm sad, Willy. Very sad. But I'll be alright, with time."

He hugged her, then seemed lost in thought for a long moment.

"Mama, now that my father is dead, can Uncle Jack be my father?"

Again, guilt washed over her. She could not deny that she had had the same thought. _Will's dead. I'm free. Free to be with Jack if I want to. _

"Willy, when someone close to you dies, it's just not right to replace them right away. It's important to spend time thinking about the person who died, thinking about what they meant to you, how you felt about them. Then, when the time comes, we can think about bringing new people into the empty place. But not yet."

"I still want Uncle Jack to be my father."

She sighed and rose, hugging him and looking over his head to where Jack had just come to the doorway, leaning on the jamb and watching them. His hat was tilted low over his eyes, but when he looked up, she saw his agreement in those chocolate orbs. He wanted it too. Her heart pounded, and she looked away quickly, fighting down the traitorous thoughts desperately. _I am not free yet. I must mourn Will. I _must_ mourn Will. _But her heart betrayed her mind.


	4. Chapter 3

Two weeks after she found out about Will's death, they left. Elizabeth did not in any way regret seeing that miserable little island fade behind her. She had not left it since the trip to the Fountain. She delighted in the feeling of the swaying deck beneath her, delighted in watching the clear water seem to rush by. This was where she belonged; where she had always belonged, though she had spent years denying it. _The_ _Beautiful Betrayer _was _The Black Pearl_'s twin in most ways, but was better. The mast, she knew, was an exact replica of the one she had chained Jack to, right down to the manacles. She knew that memory meant something very strange and deep to Jack, but she somehow wasn't sure if it was completely related to her. It was something else, though she knew not what.

Willy begged to sleep with the crew, imagining himself a great pirate. They let him, though it placed Elizabeth and Jack in a rather awkward situation: he refused to let her sleep with the crew, and she refused to force him from his cabin. She insisted upon making herself a bed on the floor, and made him lie down on it to show him how comfortable it really was. Finally he relented. She got little sleep there, with the sound of his even breathing in the bed above her, the smell of ocean and rum and spice drifting around her. She dreamt, for the first time in years, of the day she had killed him; a strange dream, part nightmare and part romantic fantasy, which had haunted her during his time in the locker. She woke up with a start somewhere in the early hours and fought to catch her breath. This dream had been different than the ones which tortured her so long ago; she dreamt of that fateful kiss over and over, her betrayal a mere background to the incredible sensations she had felt when she kissed Jack.

She rose and took a step towards the door, thinking to get some fresh air, but was suddenly aware that Jack's breathing was no longer even, and was not coming from the bed, but from right beside her. She turned quickly, unsure of his intentions, but misjudged the distance and ran smack into him. By his surprised yelp, he had not even known she was there.

"Oi! What in Calypso's sea are you doing, woman?!"

"What are _you _doing? Sneaking around in the darkness?"

"I'm not sneaking! How could I sneak on my own ship? I was going out on deck for some fresh air, if you don't mind, _Your Highness_."

Suddenly they both broke out laughing. It was strange, how time had changed them, eased the constant tension of lust and later anger which had constantly pushed and pulled at them. She didn't remember Jack ever laughing in the old days, not really. She'd seen him laugh at least once just because everyone else did. Now, his laugh was real and hearty. It felt good to laugh with him, to enjoy such an easy camaraderie.

It came to her in a flash of guilt that she should be crying for Will, not laughing with Jack. She _had _cried for Will, but not nearly as much as she should have. She was shamefully aware that some part of her, some part which she had kept locked away tightly, had been hoping for this for a very long time. She had, in some ways, regretted marrying Will from the moment she said "I do".

Jack's laughter faded to a grin which she could barely see in the darkness. Then, it was gone completely, and all she knew was his lips on hers for a long moment. The kiss was light, a brief touch of lips softly…yet it still managed to set her aflame. All she wanted in that moment was to wrap her arms around his neck, to open her mouth for him, to topple onto his bed and into the bliss she knew he could bring her. It had been two years since she last lay with a man, and the hunger ate at her. And Jack had always excited her in a far different, more intense way than Will had. Nevertheless, she forced herself not to pull him back when he moved slightly away, brushing his rough thumb over her bottom lip.

"Jack…it's too soon."

She saw him nod lightly in the darkness. He took her hand, running his calloused fingers along hers, and suddenly, she felt something cold slip onto her thumb. Feeling blindly in the blackness, she let her fingertips brush across the ring.

"Jack…"

"Hush, luv. It doesn't have to mean anything, not if you don't want it to…but if you do, then it's a promise that, even if it's too soon now, it won't always be. We'll get out chance to see what it's like, someday."

Perhaps, to another woman, one who did not know Jack so well, it would have seemed merely a promise that one day he would take her to his bed, just to see if the chemistry extended that far. But Elizabeth knew Jack. And she knew it was a promise of something deeper, though how much deeper had yet to be seen. She reached up to kiss him again, briefly, and then they went out into the starry night, breathing deeply of the sea air that was their lifeblood, content, for the moment, merely to be together again.


End file.
